


Meeting the Boss

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [91]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Promotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonagePrompt 1 The HoF meets the First Warden after the Blight and is promoted.The Archdemon is dead. Ferelden is beginning to bind up its wounds and get back to daily life. Alistair has been made king. Sevarra Amell is taking some muchly needed time to recuperate after the blight. But even after a blight, a Grey Warden's work is never done. The First Warden pays a personal visit to the kingdom of Ferelden to meet the pair of survivors who led the effort to stop the Fifth Blight but that's not the only thing on his mind.
Relationships: Female Amell/Zevran Arainai
Series: Reddit Prompts [91]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153856
Kudos: 3





	Meeting the Boss

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if any of this could even remotely be considered "canon," so take this with a grain of salt and enjoy!

She stood next to Alistair – _King_ Alistair, she reminded herself – and held her staff in the hand opposite from him. While the casual observer – not that there were any observers apart from the guards posted at each of the doors, the usual pack of advisors and nobles had been chased off for the afternoon -- would think the closeness merely due to shared friendship, the truth was that she wasn’t quite fully healed yet and occasionally needed help lest she fall. She was still recovering from how brutally hard she’d pushed herself during the blight, to say nothing of the battle with Urthemiel. Normally, Alistair would’ve shooed away anyone insistent on meeting the Hero of Ferelden in person while she was still convalescing, but this visitor was a special exception. It wasn’t every day that the head of the Grey Warden order bothered to leave the order’s homeland in the Anderfels.

Sevarra observed the First Warden from her perch next to the king as he strode toward the throne from the far-off double doors across from her. The pair of Grey Wardens that accompanied him remained by the doors, standing guard, the way they held their bodies suggesting that they were wary of an attack at any moment. To her eye, the First Warden carried himself with the bearing of a warrior; he stood tall and his form suggested that he had far more muscle than bulk under the formal attire he had on. As he drew closer, she noted more details. Straight-backed posture, sun-kissed skin that had a dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks, dark hair kissed with silver at his temples and down the center of his neatly groomed beard, bright, sharp eyes that did not seem to miss a single detail of what they beheld with their storm-cloud grey gaze. She had to fight the urge to visibly shiver as that stormy gaze fell upon her.

He offered only the very slightest of bows after reaching the dais. “Your Majesty,” he said by way of simple greeting. His gaze returned to her and offered a small nod of his head, “Warden.”

“We greet you and welcome you to Denerim, First Warden,” Alistair offered with a smile.

Sevarra felt a tiny pang of envy at the king’s ease, or his skill at hiding his nerves, whichever it was. She slowly bowed, taking care to not dip down too low, lest she need help to get upright… again. “Welcome, First Warden. What brings you to Ferelden?”

The man didn’t bother to suppress his laugh. “You’re joking, right? A blight erupted in this land and was defeated in little more than a year. That in itself is a feat never before seen. But to slay an archdemon and not have a Warden’s life claimed in the process? _That_ is unheard of.”

Sevarra furrowed her brows for a moment before forcing her features back into a neutral mask. “A Warden’s life _was_ claimed, m’lord. Riordan of Jader did not survive the battle.”

The First arched a dark brow. “Is that so? The tales that have reached us say that a woman, _a mage_ , struck the killing blow.”

It took all of her effort to not shrink back. She nodded her head and lowered her gaze instead. “That much is true, m’lord.”

He straightened himself, taking on a more somber tone. “I trust our message arrived before us? Were you able to…?”

She nodded. “Yes, it got here astonishingly quickly. We collected as much of the beast’s blood as possible. It is in the compound in the city, under heavy guard and several layers of locks, both magical and mundane.”

“Excellent,” the man said, a flash of relief in his eyes. “I would like to see the compound for myself as soon as possible. If you will excuse us, Your Majesty?”

“Of course,” Alistair said.

“Warden? Come along,” the First said with a beckoning gesture and then turned to leave.

Sevarra shot a questioning look in Alistair’s direction. He offered a shrug. She hurried along, leaning heavily on her staff. She tried her best to ignore the protest of her aching muscles as she caught up to the First and his guards. While she sensed the familiar aura of the other Grey Wardens, it did nothing to comfort her as she led them out of the palace and into the city. Their journey to the order’s compound was uneventful, barring the normal hustle and bustle of merchants hawking their wares, shoppers looking for various goods, and teams of workers laboring to haul away debris from the darkspawn siege. The chantry still bore the char from dragon fire.

One of the First’s guards finally bothered to speak after letting forth a low whistle. “Your capital has seen better days.”

“Yes, well, an archdemon and its pet army of darkspawn weren’t what we’d call ‘polite’ visitors. For some reason, they didn’t seem interested in discussing things over tea,” Sevarra let the sarcasm heavily coat her words.

She arched a brow and turned when she heard a small smacking sound and a startled “oof!” The guard who had opened his mouth was rubbing the back of his head. The other guard was giving him a disgusted look. She shook her head and led the group to the heavily guarded door of Denerim’s Grey Warden compound. She greeted the royal guards posted there with a wave and a nod.

“M’lady? We were told not to let anyone--” one guard began.

“It’s alright, they’re with me. They’re Grey Wardens. Unlock the door, if you please?” she replied.

The royal guardsman all but leaped to find the correct key from the ring on his belt and unlock the first of several locks. After the sixth lock was undone, he scurried back. Tapping her staff on the ground more as a measure to clear her mind, she began a spell that would deactivate the magical locks she’d put in place several weeks earlier. The door creaked open with a gentle push after her work was done.

She gestured with both hands toward the doorway. “After you, gentlemen.”

The First’s expression was carefully guarded, revealing nothing. He found his way to the back room behind a false bookcase. Sevarra toddled along as best she could to catch up. Nearly a dozen large ceramic containers were lined up against the far wall. To her magic-enhanced senses, the jars each vibrated in tune to the spells she’d woven to seal them once they’d been filled. Beyond that, there was the faint aura of power and malevolence that came from the blood itself. Even after weeks spent in a storage room, the stuff still sent a shiver down her spine.

The First turned to address her. “I trust you know why it was imperative to collect the blood?”

“I know that it is needed as part of the Joining ritual, yes,” she answered.

“Not only that. All but two chapters have depleted their supply. The two that have any to speak of, Orlais and the Free Marches, are nearing the last dregs. There have been no new Grey Wardens inducted since your own Joining.”

Her eyebrows climbed into her hairline. “I am going to assume that is very much not a good thing. I have read accounts of how darkspawn still threaten outlying settlements in the Anderfels.”

He nodded. “Even with careful and sparing use, we began to run out. It has been 400 years since the previous blight. Without more Grey Wardens, more places will be in danger of being overwhelmed by darkspawn. What of the supply that was here before? Records stated that none of the Wardens of Sofia Dryden’s time collected the blood held here.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m afraid the place was ransacked by Loghain’s men before our Landsmeet. All King Alistair and I found here when we finally got the key were arms and armor and what looked like broken shards of pottery.” She pointed to a black mark on the ground. “We’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, but I don’t think that is ever going to come out. I’m going to guess that is due to Andoral’s blood. We haven’t allowed any un-Joined people in this part of the compound, just to be safe.”

The First pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a ragged sigh. “It’s just as well that you lot executed the arse, then.”

“Arse would be putting it lightly, m’lord. We Fereldans have no tolerance for traitors,” she said as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She tried to banish the memories of her time in Fort Drakon as a prisoner and the “interrogations” at the hands of Loghain’s minions. The scars on her back began to burn and ache.

She bit her lip before she spoke again. “There is one thing I must ask. Are… that is… is Ferelden going to be getting any help after the other chapters get their fresh supplies of blood? A new commander, at least? Duncan, Maker watch over his soul, was murdered along with King Cailan at Ostagar. I’m the only Grey Warden left in the kingdom now, what with Alistair having to take the throne.”

She was taken aback by the hearty chuckle and the mirth in the man’s stormy grey eyes.

“Why would we send a new commander?”

“Well, to recruit new Wardens, for one thing,” she replied. “I’m only one person. I can’t possibly cover an entire kingdom alone. Not with how quickly the darkspawn can replenish their numbers.”

“You’ll be able to recruit as you see fit, commander,” he grinned.

“I-- What? Did-- Did I mishear you, m’ lord?”

“I should hope not, commander.”

“Me? But-- but I’m a _mage._ Furthermore, I’m not what you’d call experienced! I’ve only been a Warden for a little over a year! How could I possibly be qualified to--” she sputtered.

The First held up a hand. “There are many who are more senior than you, yes. But how many of them have assembled an army? How many of them have ended a blight? How many of them,” he leveled a pointed look her way, “have killed an archdemon and somehow survived to tell the tale?”

She closed her mouth, but her mind was bubbling over with protests and questions.

“Seniority does not trump experience. You’ve gotten more experience than many of them have in a lifetime. Your king gifted an arling to the order, yes?”

She nodded.

“Your first order of business – once you have finished recovering from your injuries – will be to lay claim to a location fit to house and train your new recruits. After that, you will complete the task that your predecessor began: rebuilding Ferelden’s chapter of the order. Do you understand, commander?”

She forced herself to swallow in spite of how dry her throat had suddenly gotten and nodded.

“Do not think that you’re in this alone. Stroud or Clarel will send you a few Wardens to help you train your new recruits.”

She managed to find her voice once more. “Beg your pardon, m’ lord, who are those people?”

“The Warden-Commanders of the Free Marches and Orlais chapters, respectively.”

**

She made her way back to her quarters in the palace in a haze. She startled when she saw a certain someone laying in their shared bed with a rose cheekily held in his teeth. He waggled his brows before taking it out and setting it on a pillow.

“Zev! Maker, you scared me, love!”

He chuckled and rose from the bed, helping her to sink into a chair. Strong warm hands began massaging her shoulders. She hummed in relief as sore muscles began to relax and smirked when he began planting small kisses along her neck.

“So, who was this mysterious stranger you were meeting with today? I heard that Alistair had all of the nobles you two so love to loathe chased away for the afternoon,” the assassin purred into her ear.

“The head of the Grey Warden order, believe it or not. The First Warden himself came all the way from the Anderfels.”

“Did he now? What did he have to say?” Zevran murmured into her ear while his hands roamed down her arms.

“Long story short, I’ve been promoted. I’m Ferelden’s new Warden-Commander.”

“Truly? Sounds like a good enough reason to celebrate, no?” he grinned.

“You-you’re not upset? It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

“Why should it?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You said that you were going to remain with your order. You will be giving orders instead of taking them. Our plans are not changed by this.”

She sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Losing you would be too much to bear.”

“I am not going anywhere,” the elf smirked. “Other than to that lovely bath chamber. Up with you now, the water will not remain hot all night. Let us enjoy it while we can.”


End file.
